Reconcile
by Nerwen Aldarion
Summary: Co authored by Tinuviel Undomiel: After the team finds of Ziva is captured they mount a rescue operation but will they find Ziva in time and why is Ziva hallucinating about the team? Who will she choose, NCIS or Mossad? TIVA!


Disclaimer: We own absolutely nothing!

A/N Nerwen Aldarion: Hey ya'll I know I've got a lot of people wondering if I'm going to finish Ripped from the Headlines, I will but computer problems have slowed me down a bit. Also when I watched the season finale this idea popped into my head and the muse could not be denied. Why am I writing this fic? Because I wanted to explain how I think TPTB should finish this storyline, it's also so that I can explain some worries away.

COTE DE PABLO IS NOT LEAVING THE SHOW!!! I have that from several sources as well as an intereview with Cote where she stated that she had no plans on leaving and if the producers had plans for her to leave that they would at least have to bring her back for a few episodes to finish up the storyline. A list went out this year of TV shows that were killing off characters and NCIS was not on it, one of the producers has also said that Ziva will be back next season and that she and Tony would start bickering once more like we've known and loved them before. So everyone relax, breathe and get excited for next season.

A/N Tinuviel Undomiel: Hey guys, I'm Nerwen's sister and a big fan of NCIS. I will be writing this little gem with my sister since we both came up with stuff for this story. Again, this is all just an idea, we don't know how the team will really save Ziva only that they will. We hope to do three stories, this one, American Girl and Die Hard, so a sort of trilogyy. I hopy you enjoy this story, I know I do.

* * *

Reconcile

Act 1: Abandoned

Special Agent Tony DiNozzo stared intently at his computer screen as if the billions of tiny pixels held an answer as to why these past couple of weeks had occurred. Work used to be a distraction from every problem in his life. When his relationship with Jeanne Benoit had ended in disaster and heartbreak he had buried himself in work. For months after he had never arrived late to work, never missed a report deadline, did everything he possibly could to pretend none of it had ever happened. That wasn't possible in this case.

It was impossible for his eyes to not turn away from his computer to the empty desk across from him. This wasn't right at all. Ziva should be staring at him from across the aisle, griping about whatever annoying habit of his that was currently grating on her nerves. She should be uttering words in Hebrew that he would later look up and laugh over, maybe even repeat a couple of times himself when no one was around. She should be swiping his food when he wasn't looking because he had forgotten to buy her a breakfast burrito. Her desk shouldn't feel like a symbol of the giant void looming over the entire squad room.

His eyes were still on her desk when he pulled out his cell-phone and flipped it open. He punched in a few buttons until he got to his contact list. He scrolled down until he read the title: Ziva Mobile 555-0183. His thumb ran over the call button as if daring him to push it.

What would happen if he did? Would she answer? Would she see the name and hang up on him? Would he even reach her at all? So many questions with no answers. Ziva shouldn't be on the other end of a phone line; she should be there at her desk bickering with him again.

Tony looked up from his phone and saw that Gibbs was now standing over his desk. Maybe he read the name on his phone but it was more likely that he just knew what he was thinking. It could only be more obvious if someone drew a thought bubble over his head.

Did he blame him? Did Gibbs think it was his fault that the desk across the aisle was now empty? Everything he had done was to protect Ziva. He had never meant for Michael Rivkin to die, never meant for Ziva to lose her faith in her team. He has just wanted to save his friend from the line she had been so close to crossing.

The look in his boss's eye told him this wasn't so. Gibbs knew Ziva had made this decision on her own and nothing could change that. What's done is done, except this time Tony wasn't sure he could move on.

"Guess she'll call when she's ready," he stated to the entire room, not just to Gibbs in particular.

Nobody said anything in reply. Gibbs just simply walked away to his desk. McGee turned his attention back to his computer, no doubt hoping to concentrate on work. Tony saw Gibbs look over at the empty desk next to him.

There was one question that was filling the air in the room. It was pressing up against the walls, urging for it to be asked. Gibbs turned away from the desk, trying to ignore its presence. But Tony heard it whisper across his mind as he shut his phone closed:

Will she?

_OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO_

_Three Months Later_

The walls of the Somalian building were brown. Everything was brown in fact, the floors the ceilings, even the people. It was dirty too. Not the dirty seen when a floor needs an extra mopping, but filthy, grungy even. An army of highly trained professional cleaners could come and work for a month's time and still be unable to make this place shine.

This grime had been made accustomed to the Somalian man walking through the halls. He was wearing camouflage pants and a black shirt, the typical uniform for his job. A gun was strapped to his right hip but he was in no hurry to use it. A cigarette was burning at his finger tips.

He stopped in front of another man wearing black pants and dusty brown jacket. He pulled out a virgin cigarette and put it in his mouth when he saw him walking up. Out of courtesy, the man took out his lighter and blazed up his companion's smoke. Once he was satisfied, the man turned away and opened the creaky wooden door his friend had been guarding.

He took one last drag as he walked inside and then tossed his cigarette to the ground. He crumbled it into a bit of ash and paper with the sole of his brown boot. Directly in front of him was a woman, bound to a chipped wooden chair. When she had first arrived her brown hair had been lustrous and beautiful. Now it was dirty and dry and in desperate need for a comb. She didn't meet his eye when he reached down and yanked the necklace away from her throat.

It was a pretty little thing she wore, a gold chain with a gold Star of David dangling at its center. It must have had some sentimental value to her for her to risk keeping it while on her mission, her failed mission.

He kept the necklace in one hand while he reached up and grabbed a fistful of her hair. The woman let out a cry of pain when he forced her head back so she would meet his eyes.

Ziva David was a beautiful woman when she had arrived in Somalia. Now half of her face was blood red and purple. Her left eye was swollen shut and the cheek beneath it had expanded to twice its size. Blood dotted her chin, but the rest of her face was relatively untouched.

"Now tell me everything you know about NCIS," he instructed her.

* * *

"No, no, no, please do not hang—." Click, the line went dead. Tony tossed the phone back onto its cradle with a cry of rage. "Damn that old lady!"

"Why are you insulting the elderly, Agent DiNozzo?"

Tony swiveled in his chair and saw that Director Leon Vance standing behind his cubicle. "I see you've been taking lessons from Gibbs," Tony said, "I was trying to talk to the suspect's grandmother. Apparently she's suffering from dementia because she keeps thinking I'm a CIA agent bent on imprisoning her."

A smile curved his dark lips. "Is that a fact? Perhaps you should seek out other relatives."

"She's all he has left," Tony told him.

"It's apparent she won't tell you anything. I suggest you move on to something more fruitful."

Vance had moved away from the cubicle wall and was not standing beside the empty desk in front of Tony's. Quickly, Tony duck his eyes back to his computer. "I'll get right on that, director."

For the past three months that desk had stood there mocking them all. They had all tried to ignore it but it was like a giant elephant in the room. No, scratch that. It was a huge brontosaurus painted white with purple polka dots: impossible to ignore. It was screaming at them to notice it.

Vance stopped at the desk and picked up a piece of folded construction paper. Written its face was the word 'reserved' in stern black marker. "I thought I told her not to do this again," he stated to the men in the room.

"Well you know Abby, sir," McGee spoke up from over his computer.

"Hmm," Vance thought while he rubbed the face of the sign with his thumb. "Where's Gibbs?"

"He went out for coffee," McGee answered again.

"Of course he did," Vance said with a shake of his head. He crumbled up the reserved sign and threw it in the trash. "Keep up the good work, gentlemen," he instructed them while heading towards Abby's lab.

_What else are we going to do?_ Tony asked himself while he punched his keys on his computer. Still, his eyes drifted over to the empty desk.

He could imagine Ziva sitting their going over files for this case. She'd lock eyes with him and give him a smile if she was in a good mood, roll her eyes if she was in a bad one. If it was the latter he'd do something annoying to cheer her up, perhaps start a rubber band war or maybe put superglue on McGee's seat so he would stick to it. Whatever his plan it had always worked. Sure they would rile up Gibbs, but that was part of the fun. They both liked to live on the edge of danger.

Tony hadn't realized that he'd left his chair until he was standing over the trash can. He reached down and removed the crumbled up sign Abby had made. He laid it flat on the desk and smoothed it out before sitting it up again. The desk belonged to Ziva, no one else.

_OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO_

There was something hypnotic about watching AFIS go through the database of fingerprints, trying to seek out a match that was often so elusive to Abby. She slurped at her Caf-Pow, reveling in the caffeine that had become her life line after years of drinking them.

"Abby," Vance's call pulled her away from the screen. She put on her usual cheerful smile and asked, "What can I do for you, director? I haven't gotten any hits yet from the fingerprint I found on the duffel bag."

"That's not why I came by, Miss Sciuto," Vance said in a tone that warned Abby she was in trouble, "I saw that sign on the desk across from DiNozzo's."

"You mean the sign on Ziva's desk," Abby replied.

"Officer David resigned her post here at NCIS, you know that."

"She's coming back," Abby stated firmly. Her beliefs were strong; it was obvious by the array of photos she had posted of Ziva all over her lab.

"Ziva was never an NCIS agent," Vance told her in just as firm a tone, "Her loyalty always belonged to Mossad. She was never meant to stay here forever."

"She is a part of my family," Abby replied with anger creeping up her pale cheeks, "And once you join my family you're in it forever."

Vance let out a sigh when she turned around and continued to sip at her Caf-Pow. "I understand that you were friends with her."

"I _am_ friends with her."

"Regardless, Ziva has left NCIS and her spot on Gibbs' team must be filled whether you like it or not." He paused a moment before continuing, "Is that understood."

Abby did her duty by turning around to meet his eye. "Yes, director sir."

Vance knew that meant she understood his words but she wasn't willing to accept them. You couldn't force Abby to do anything. The Goth was a free spirit no one could tame; your only hope for survival was to surrender.

He let out another sigh. "Carry on."

Abby turned back around once he'd left but didn't grab her Caf-Pow. Instead she pulled a picture of Ziva free from its tape stuck to her computer. "Did you hear me, Ziva?" she asked the frozen image of her friend, "You're my family which means you're coming home. That spot is meant for my family only so you better come back and fill it."

Ziva continued to smile back at her, lifeless. Abby looked back at her with melancholy and put her back on the computer. She put her chin in her hands and continued to watch AFIS filter through the fingerprints.

* * *

"You're usual sir?" the coffee attendant asked Gibbs from over the counter once he had arrived at the register.

"Why do you ask me that every time?" Gibbs inquired.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Don't…" Gibbs stopped himself from completing his usual response to those words. This kid wasn't a part of his team so there was no need to explain about what apologies were to him. "Yes, I'll have my usual."

"Coming right up sir." The kid quickly filled the largest cup available with black coffee and put a lid on top. "Here you go, sir, that'll be—."

"I know what it is," Gibbs said and pushed the exact change towards him. He didn't even wait for the kid to show out the customary thank you but simply turned around. His car was parked just down the street and he was headed for that direction when a woman's voice called out his name, "Agent Gibbs?"

He stopped and saw that a young woman sitting at one of the wrought iron tables was looking straight at him. "You are Agent Gibbs, aren't you?"

There was a thick accent to her voice that he recognized though the voice itself was unfamiliar. "Depends on who you are Miss…?"

"Amsel. Ilana Amsel."

"Alright, Miss Amsel," Gibbs said while he walked over to her table and sat down, "I'd like to know why an Israeli woman like you is looking for me."

Ilana gave him a pretty smile that matched her lovely face. She had dark brown hair and eyes of the exact same color, a typical trait of the Israeli people. "You do not know me, but I know much of you. I am Ziva's cousin. I came here with her about four years ago."

"To try and get Ari out of the country," Gibbs said before sipping his coffee. No, he didn't know her, but he would never forget who she had been helping.

Ilana nodded. "I met your Agent DiNozzo, he stripped down to his underwear in front of me," she smiled again; "It was quite a sight."

"I'll be sure to tell him you dropped by, now is there any reason in particular why you flagged me down Miss Amsel?"

"Ziva always spoke of your impatience," she replied without any sign of being rankled by him.

That was the second mention of his former team member and that deep feeling in his gut was beginning to gnaw at him. "How is Ziva?" he asked.

Ilana dropped her eyes down to her half-empty cup of tea. "That is why I am here, Agent Gibbs. Ziva is in need of your help."

"What's wrong?" His gut was being chewed even harder now.

Ilana swallowed hard before meeting his blue eyes again. "She has been captured by an Islamic terrorist cell in Somalia."

Gibbs leaned back into his chair and shut his eyes. He had a feeling it would be this bad. Ilana opened her purse and pulled out something that sparkled. "They sent this to my uncle as proof of her capture." She dangled the familiar gold necklace with the Star of David over his hand. She dropped it neatly into his palm.

He looked at the Jewish symbol and couldn't recall a time when Ziva had been absent of it. He had never known if it was simply a mark of her heritage or something of even more sentimental value. He was never one to ask personal questions when he didn't have to.

"How long?"

"Two weeks."

Gibbs frowned at her when she said the number. "Why hasn't her father gotten her out yet?"

"He says he can't," Ilana replied, "We have officers linked to sister cells. He says he cannot risk jeopardizing their missions by retrieving Ziva."

"The hell he can't!" Gibbs shouted, "That's his daughter!"

"Yes and my cousin. That is why I have come. I know you can get her out of Somalia."

Gibbs shook his head at the world and rubbed his chin with his hand. "Look, Ilana, if I could go after her I would, but she's no longer with NCIS. I don't have the authority…"

"But you do, Agent Gibbs," Ilana stated, "Your Director Vance is aware of Ziva's capture—."

"Vance knows?!"

Ilana calmly nodded her head, "Yes, but he is unaware that the terrorists don't want to know anything about Mossad. They want Ziva to tell them about NCIS."

That last bit was completely unexpected to Gibbs. He frowned at her and blinked back in confusion. "NCIS? Why?"

"I honestly do not know," she admitted, "But it is the truth. If you tell your Director Vance this then I believe he will let you go to Somalia and rescue Ziva."

A suspicious thought entered Gibbs's mind. He rubbed the face of Ziva's Star while he looked at her cousin. "Director David doesn't know you're here, does he?"

Ilana shook her head. "I told him I am visiting my sister in law. She owns a restaurant in Georgetown. I stole that from his office as proof of what I say."

Gibbs nodded back at her and then grabbed his forgotten cup of coffee. "Thank you Miss Amsel."

Ilana grabbed his arm before he could stand up. "Promise me you'll get her out of Somalia alive, Agent Gibbs."

It was a promise Gibbs had been trained to never make. Promises of life were hard to keep especially when terrorists were involved. He had dealt with many sobbing family members after breaking such a promise. But this was Ziva, there was no such thing as failure when she was involved.

He leaned down towards the Israeli woman so she could see the promise in his eyes. "I swear that I will find her and give this back to her in person." He put one hand on her shoulder. "I swear I'll bring her home alive, Ilana. I'll bring her home."

Tears were welling up in her brown eyes while she gazed back at him. "Thank you, Agent Gibbs. I knew I could count on you."

He nodded at her one last time before whirling around and walking swiftly for his car. Time was fleeing quickly for him now, but no doubt for Ziva, time was creeping by ever so slowly.

* * *

"I grow tired of these games Officer David," Ziva's interrogator spoke as he walked around her chair, each step echoing through the room menacingly. She was slumped over, exhausted, wounded and drained but her eyes still held strength. The Arab man noticed this, "Tell me about NCIS."

With great effort Ziva moved her head to look him in the eye, "I'm sorry, what is NCIS?" she asked defiantly.

His eyes narrowed and he grasped her face in his hands roughly, "NCIS, the agency you worked for during the last four years!"

Ziva smiled mischievously, "Really? Are you sure it wasn't another Officer David? It is a common name after all."

Her interrogator wasn't amused, in response to her flippant remarks he reared back and struck her hard across the face. It hurt worse because her cheek was already swollen and injured but the pain was minor compared to some of their previous techniques, "Don't insult my intelligence, Rivken told me of your involvement with them."

"Perhaps he lied to you."

"I doubt that seeing as how good friends he and I became," the man stated, "besides it was no secret you held a liaison position in Washington, your evasive answers will not help you." He grasped her arm, the one he'd already fractured and pressed sending shocks of pain through her body, "now tell me what I want to know."

Ziva gritted her teeth against the pain and glared at him, "I'd rather die!"

It looked like he might hit her again but another member of the cell stepped in the doorway and spoke quickly in Arabic. Ziva was tired and her poor health at the moment didn't allow for much concentration. She didn't catch most of what was spoken but she believed it had something to do with a major member of the organization radioing in to speak with her tormentor.

At any rate her interrogator left, closing the door with an angry slam and locking it behind him. Now that he was gone she allowed her exhaustion to take over her again, her shoulders sagged and she hung her head as it suddenly became too heavy to hold up. She was living in her own personal nightmare and as much experience she had in such areas for the life of her she couldn't think of a way out of this one.

Ziva was alone. Her father wasn't coming and her friends…she had left NCIS behind months ago, there was no reason for them to come.

"You know this reminds me of a chap I once knew when I worked in Afghanistan; he was taken captive by the jihadists and was tortured for several days. It was a testament to his strength that he never gave up any information."

Ducky's voice filled her ears and Ziva slowly raised her eyes to see him standing in front of her, his long white lab coat over his collard shirt and suspenders, looking just like he had stepped out of autopsy. Immediately Ziva knew one of two things was happening; either Ducky had perfected the ability to become a ghost or…she was going crazy.

The odds were for the latter.

"What are you doing here Ducky?" Ziva asked aloud, licking her dry lips to keep her voice steady.

"You wanted me here my dear, you're in a rough spot and I'm here to help."

"You are going to get me out?"

Ducky smiled, "I only know what you know. I can't perform miracles."

"Of course," Ziva muttered. Ducky couldn't help her out, Ducky was across the world probably at autopsy right now lecturing to Jimmy. The Ducky here was nothing more than a side effect of her delirium.

But sense she was alone, she might as well talk to him; maybe he would have some ideas.

"This man you knew in Afghanistan," Ziva began, "how did he escape?"

Ducky opened his mouth but his eyes and face were grave, "Well…He…"

"He died, yes?" Ziva finished flatly. Yes of course this man had died, there was no way out of his situation any more than there was for her; it appeared that she would share his fate.

"I wouldn't count yourself out yet Ziva," Ducky spoke, as if reading her mind. Well that was silly; _he_ was in her mind so obviously he knew what she was thinking. "Gibbs will come for you."

Ziva shook her head even though it hurt to move, "I left NCIS behind three months ago, Gibbs would have no reason to look for me."

"Ah but he does," Duck explained with a smile, "You might think you left the team but Gibbs will always count you as one of his agents until you prove otherwise."

"But Gibbs does not know I am captured, even if he did he would not know where to look."

"Who else could find you but Gibbs? You've seen him work, he never gives up until he finishes the job and he also has a way of knowing everything…why wouldn't he know about you?"

Ziva didn't have an answer, for the first time she began to hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way out. "You really think he's looking for me Ducky?

The doctor smiled, "My dear, you _know_ he is. I wouldn't be able to say so otherwise."

* * *

The elevator doors opened with a cheerful ring but the agent stepping out was anything but cheerful, he had the look of angry determination, a look his team knew very well. His stride was fast, almost running as he walked past the cluster of desks his team worked at.

"Hey boss I got through to…" DiNozzo began but was cut off by Gibbs breezing past him, not even acknowledging if he even notices his senior field agent. Tony and McGee watched as Gibbs climbed the steps to the director's office at a speed that meant only one thing: trouble.

McGee grabbed his phone and hit speed dial, "Abby, you're going to want to be up here now."

_OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO_

The door to Director Vance's office burst open, only one agent would dare something like that and Vance knew that meant only one thing: Gibbs knew. "Agent Gibbs," Vance said with false cheerfulness, "Come on in."

"Cut the bullshit Leon," Gibbs said quickly, "you knew that a member of my team was missing and you said nothing!"

"I didn't realize DiNozzo or McGee had disappeared," the director replied pointedly, "as for Officer David we've had this conversation before."

"You gave me four months!"

"Those months are almost up Gibbs."

Gibbs paced across the room, "I still have three weeks!"

"You're right Agent Gibbs," Vance agreed, "However since Ziva David no longer works for NCIS any problems that occur with her are Mossad's problem. I will not authorize a rescue mission when it has nothing to do with NCIS!"

Gibbs was surprisingly calm as he smiled knowingly, "I never said it had nothing to do with NCIS," he leaned in across Vance's desk and said quietly, "the terrorists who kidnapped her aren't looking for information on Mossad…they want to know about NCIS."

Vance studied Gibbs for a moment trying to determine if the man was lying, "How would you know that?"

"I had a visit from Ziva's cousin today; she told me everything, including what the terrorists are after."

"Eli never mentioned this."

"Of course, he didn't he doesn't want to compromise the mission!" Gibbs said but thought _at least I hope that's the reason_, "eventually they are going to break her and they will have the information that they want, the only way to prevent another attack is to save Ziva."

His eyes leveled with Leon, "Are you going to let me do this or not?"

* * *

Gibbs's team, in addition to both Abby and Ducky, was waiting for him when he slowly descended the staircase from the director's office. Ducky looked curious, McGee and Abby looked concerned but DiNozzo's face was vacant. Gibbs could tell that DiNozzo had a feeling who Gibbs was worried about and that what ever had happened to her wouldn't be good.

"Gibbs…" Abby began but he held up a hand to silence her.

He looked at them one at a time before heaving a big sigh, "Ziva…has been captured by terrorists."

Abby gasped and covered her mouth with her hand, tears already filling her eyes. Ducky exhaled slowly, "Good Lord," but Tony and McGee remained silent waiting for orders.

"She went missing two weeks ago, Mossad hasn't been able to rescue her," Gibbs didn't mention that Mossad probably hadn't tried, "however we have just learned that the terrorists are after information concerning NCIS…which makes this our problem and the director has given me permission to perform a rescue op."

He looked them in the eye again, "We are going to find Ziva, we are going to find her and get her out before they do anything else to her; failure is _not_ an option. There are no other cases, no other concerns, this is our top priority."

"Where do we start?" Ducky asked gravely.

"Abby," Gibbs turned to the Gothic scientist, "Do you have any friends in the CIA of military who would be willing let us borrow their satellite?"

"I'm on it," Abby told him, tears were still heavy in her voice but her eyes held the same determination.

"McGee you help her," Gibbs told his youngest agents, "two heads are better than one.

Now he turned to Tony, "DiNozzo…"

"I'm going with you, boss," Tony cut in. Gibbs opened his mouth again but he never got a word out. "I won't just sit here waiting for word whether or not she's alive. I know she may hate me but as far as I'm concerned she is still my friend so you better accept the fact that I'm tagging along with you."

Gibbs straightened his posture so they were at perfect eyelevel. "Are you done."

"Yes, boss."

"Good, because I was going to say gear up, you're coming with me."

Toney gave him a sheepish little nod. "Thank you, boss."

_OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO_

Gibbs and Tony had finished packing within an hour and were already on their way to the naval airport to hitch a ride to Somalia when Abby finally got in touch with her friend Billy from the CIA.

"You do understand that officially this is illegal," Billy told her via video conference from her computer.

"I know, Bill, but it's the quickest way I can think of." Abby put on her best beggar's face. "Please?"

"Only for you, Abby," he replied, "I'm sending you the codes now. You should be able to access the network from your lab."

"You rock, Billy!" she cried when she saw that the data is uploading onto her computer, "Dinner's on me next weekend and you can get whatever you want, I promise."

Billy let out a laugh. "I appreciate that, Abby. Now I better cut this short before my boss comes in and kills me."

"Thanks again, Bill," she said before the screen went black. McGee was at her side immediately with a fresh Caf-Pow.

"You ready to do this?" he asked.

Abby looked at the picture of Ziva taped onto her computer. "Let's bring her home."

They each took up one side of the keyboard and set to work typing in the mass array of codes Billy had just sent them. It took several minutes before the computer showed that they had been granted access into the satellite network.

"Where should we start?" Abby asked when the globe appeared on her screen.

"Somalia."

She gave him a bewildered look. "Duh McGee, but _where_ in Somalia?"

"Southern Somalia," McGee replied quickly, "She's supposed to be captured by Islamic terrorists. The Islamic Courts Union controls that portion of the country."

"Where is the most isolated spot?" Abby asked while she coordinated the satellite image to land over southern Somalia.

"Uh," Tim muttered, "Jubbada Hoose, search near Badhaadhe. They would have to be near some city for supplies."

"I wish I had some pictures to help narrow this down," Abby said while she clicked the keys on her keyboard to reach the small Somalian town. She zoomed in enough to still have a wide view but also have the ability to discern civilizations. Minutes later, McGee asked, "Do you see anything?"

"Not yet," she murmured. Then at the corner of her screen she saw a strange, tiny blur. "Wait," she said and started zooming in, "Wait, wait, wait." The image cleared and they were able to see some sort of warehouse. "That could be it."

"Could be?" McGee repeated with obvious skepticism.

"Well I can't exactly call them up and ask, but it's the best I can do," she stated in a tone that suggested growing frustration.

McGee nodded; they were both frustrated…and worried. "I'll call Gibbs," he promised her. He left her lab leaving Abby alone to her army of machines. She picked up her Caf-Pow and took a long sip. "I hope this is it," she whispered to herself.

* * *

Ziva's head hung down, her eyes closed but she was not asleep, how could she sleep when she was already in her worst nightmare? But if she kept her eyes closed she could focus her thoughts onto happier times, she could pretend that maybe she wasn't bound to a chair in a terrorist camp, that she wasn't captured and probably going to be killed.

Right now she was at NCIS, laughing with McGee in the squad room, having a chat with Ducky in Autopsy, teaching Abby self defense in her lab. She was trying so hard to pretend that she could almost hear the loud rock music, the loud thumping of Abby's boots, Abby slurping her favorite drink.

"Caf-Pow?" a voice asked. Ziva slowly opened her eyes and raised her head to see Abby standing where Ducky had been only a short while ago.

"No thank you Abby," Ziva replied.

The Goth looked skeptical, "You sure, you look tired; you could probably use some caffeine."

"Well you are a figment of my imagination, I doubt it would satisfy my thirst," Ziva explained softly.

Abby just smiled, "Don't worry, we're all coming for you, it won't be long now before Gibbs comes bursting through the door, guns blazing."

Ziva smiled and shook her head, "I don't believe that Abby."

"You know its true Ziva," Abby continued, "We're all coming for you: Gibbs, McGee, Tony…"

"Tony won't come," Ziva interrupted.

"Sure he will."

"He won't," Ziva said firmly, "He hates me now."

"Tony could never hate you."

"After what I said?" Ziva asked mockingly, "he wouldn't want anything to do with me."

"Yes he does," Abby replied angrily, "he's family, you and Tony, McGee, Gibbs, Ducky and me; we are all family! Family cares about one another no matter how angry we may get, we protect and save each other…and we don't leave."

She looked pointedly at Ziva, "You ran out on family, you left all of us behind and you didn't even say goodbye. I've already lost Kate and Jenny, how could you leave me too?"

Tears fell from Ziva's eyes as she looked down at the floor in shame, "I don't know."

Abby smiled softly, trying to be a comfort, "Why did you leave?"

Ziva shook her head, "I have two families Abby. NCIS and Mossad…and I don't know which one I belong to."

Abby looked at her pointedly, "Then you need to decide. You can only choose one of us. Which one can you trust? Which one trusts you?"

_*foof*_

* * *

A/N: So what did you think? Ziva will see other hallucinations of the team, we just aren't going to say when LOL. What is going on with Mossad? How are Tony and Gibbs going to find Ziva? And most of all, who will she choose? Review and updates will come sooner!


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